


Stability

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Codependency, M/M, Mental Instability, Power Imbalance, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-04-05 09:00:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A broken man unsure of his identity, his memories and his sanity finds himself clinging to another for stability- the one who had leaned on the person that he used to be. As things become more horribly twisted than either could imagine, who is clinging to who becomes more difficult to define.





	1. Hard Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> A series of short fragments post-S5 Shiro ("Shiro"?) and Lance, following mostly the clone theory that dominates at the time of writing. All these are pretty disjointed because they're based on, for the most part, prompts from several different people.
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter was probably the first prompt I got that sent me on the slippery slope that is shance. Hey-o!

Shiro sat down on the floor with his legs folded, trying to clear his mind. He’d been finding that meditation helped with the strange pressure that kept building up in his temples, and hoped that it would help him control his emotions better around his team.

 

Closing his eyes, he rested his arms on his knees and took a deep breath.

 

He’d really fucked up today, losing his temper with Lance. He wasn’t always this way, was he? He used to be more collected, more restrained, more…

 

He didn’t remember as well as he thought.

 

_Clear your mind,_ he silently chastised himself. It had been getting progressively more difficult to do. Shiro futilely clenched his eyes shut tighter, squeezing his hands into fists.

 

For a moment, he managed to squeeze the thoughts out of his mind nearly forcefully, entering a black hole where the background hum of electricity faded into silence. He only managed to stay there for a couple of minutes before the same thoughts intruded again, the ones he’d been having all day.

 

He sighed, opening his eyes and leaning forward defeatedly. Meditation wasn’t going to work today. Maybe he should try just distracting himself with exercise. He rolled over and began to do push-ups, trying to force all of his energy into his physical performance and away from his mind.

 

He’d been really harsh with Lance a lot, lately. He apologized, but it hadn’t been the first time- or the second. When he’d nitpicked on Lance’s form during training that morning, Allura had shot him a dirty look, but it wasn’t really necessary. He realized that this was the symptom of his misplaced guilt for something worse, something that he had no excuse for.

 

He was beginning to develop feelings for Lance that were far from appropriate for a leader, a mentor, the so-called responsible adult in the situation.

 

Was it because Lance had been so understanding when he let out his anxieties about the confusion he’d been feeling, the unease with his foggy memory and sense of displacement from himself? It was wrong of him to burden Lance with his problems, since he should be the one providing a pillar of strength for him. He was the only real source of guidance that the teenagers had- Of course, there was Coran, but he couldn’t really relate to the problems of adolescents from Earth- and felt that it was his duty not to falter from that image. 

 

When he had confronted Lance about the voice he’d heard from Shir- from him- in the ether, he’d realized too late that the stress of their stranded ship, lowering oxygen levels, and Allura and Lotor’s uncertain fate on their mission had chipped his stoic exterior, the one that he struggled more and more to maintain. Before he could stop himself, he’d said far too much. And yet somehow, Lance had managed to make him feel okay. Despite the way he’d been treating him- and to a lesser extent, all of his teammates- Lance seemed to make his emotions clearer and easier to understand, the opaque barrier separating two halves of his conscience disappearing just long enough to let some light through.

 

It didn’t seem real. Like most of the things running through Shiro’s head the past few weeks, he couldn’t make sense of when he’d begun feeling the way he did and where it came from. He couldn’t even recall the last person he’d felt attracted to before.

 

Shiro grabbed his temples- the goddawful headaches were coming back in waves as he tried to piece together how he’d gotten into his situation. It was as if a barrage of information was being thrown at him from the horizon of his consciousness faster than he could process it, burying him and slipping into his words and actions before he could even notice it. 

 

Moving to his bed, Shiro lay down, hoping that the pain would subside if he just let his train of thought flow uninterrupted. There wasn’t any point in trying to fight or even question it; somehow, he’d managed to fall a little bit in love with Lance.

 

“Christ,” Shiro groaned aloud, rolling over and covering his head with his pillow as if the idea was some outside sound he could block out. This was fucked up, and he knew it. Lance looked up to him, admired him, and most importantly, he trusted him. He could never betray that trust by letting him on to these perverse thoughts. More than just being a member of his team, Lance was a teenager, separated in age from him by eight years.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Shiro mumbled into his mattress, inaudible to anyone but himself. 

 

It wasn’t rational; Shiro realized this much. This wasn’t something that he could reason with, solve strategically or put up any sort of fight against. The best he could do was to conceal his feelings as well as possible; which explained why he had subconsciously become so much harsher towards Lance. 

 

_ (The other option, of course, was to be honest with him.) _

 

“Shut up!” Shiro hissed, shoving his head deeper into his bed. Where the hell did that idea come from? That simply couldn’t- wasn’t an option. He could only imagine the disgust, betrayal, discomfort that Lance would feel if he even suggested…

 

_ (Well, maybe he likes you, too. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you, right? Not just as a leader. Not just as a hero. Give it a chance.) _

 

Shiro’s stomach turned in revulsion with himself. He hated that his mind could even come up with such ideas, give him a glimmer of hope… No, no! Not hope! There wasn’t any hope for this! He wasn’t going to tell Lance ANYTHING about this, and that was final!

 

Too nauseous from the migraine-like throbbing of his head to exercise or even get up, Shiro rolled himself into his blanket so that he was completely covered; concealed from the world.

 

_ (Since when have you been such a coward? You’re supposed to be a living legend, a defender of the entire universe, and you’re afraid to just be honest with a teammate?) _

 

Shiro groaned. Suddenly, the heaviness in his head began to lift, and a sense of calm replaced his anxiety. Not just calm- he felt encouraged, at ease. He began to wonder if it would really pose that much of a risk to simply get a little closer to Lance- nothing overbearing, just spend some time training with him one-on-one, making up for the way he had been treating him recently. Gauging how he feels towards him before moving forward.

 

_ (Sounds like an excellent tactic.) _

 

Shiro smiled, unfolding his blanket and staring at the roof of his bunk. Perhaps many other things were spiralling out of his control, but this was something that he could handle.


	2. Validation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the rapey stuff begins- I think I made this prompt a lot more savage than it needed to be because I'm a bad person.

Lance put his Bayard onto his nightstand and removed the towel from his head, squeezing to get any remaining water out of his hair from the showers. Training had been intense, but better than usual; he noticed that Shiro was going easy on him, ignoring mistakes in his form that even he was aware were embarrassing. Considering how critical and demanding Shiro had been the past few weeks, it was a strange shift.

 

Asking him to train one-on-one was unusual, too. Shiro typically liked to get the whole team together for his training exercises, or came to check up on them while they worked alone. Instead of criticisms, Shiro had been oddly supportive, as well as staying closer to Lance physically than usual, helping him adjust his stance and hold his weapon properly, touching his shoulder when he complimented his work, but avoidant of eye contact and almost nervous whenever Lance replied. It was probably just the way that stress was messing with his mind, the same way it had been affecting his memory. Lance would enjoy his sudden positivity towards him while it lasted.

 

Ever since they’d had that conversation in the hallway where Shiro told him about not feeling like himself, his mood swings had gotten worse. It had been an issue ever since he came back from wherever the Black Lion sent him, he hadn’t been quite the same. Lance knew that whatever he had gone through must have been horrible, so he didn’t complain when Shiro become more controlling and angry, and defended him to the others.

 

“Dammit. I’m starting to act like Keith,” he mumbled, glaring accusingly at the Red Paladin suit at the foot of his bed. Maybe this was just a thing that happened when you took on Red- getting extra defensive of whoever piloted Black, right-hand guy and all that. Or maybe it was just because he couldn’t stand people talking that way about his hero.

 

If Lance ever had something resembling feelings for another guy, he knew that it was Shiro. It was difficult not to- and the way he’d been alternating between lashing out at him and apologetic words of kindness just made his approval taste sweeter. He wanted- needed Shiro to think he was a good Paladin, a useful member of the team. Maybe he’d never get as close to him as Keith did, but all the attention that he got from him felt amazing, whether positive or negative. 

 

Removing his bath robe, Lance changed into his comfortably silky Altean nightwear. He hoped he’d be allowed to keep it when he returned to Earth, or maybe could get a tracksuit made out of the same material. Reaching for his comb, Lance absentmindedly brushed his hair as he stretched out on the bed and allowed his tired muscles to relax.

 

Someone was knocking on the entry portal to his room, the echoing of a fist against metal seeming mismatched with the futuristic entryway. Sitting up, Lance briefly wondered who it could possibly be. He hoped that it wasn’t Allura, since he hadn’t finished with his nightly beauty routine and probably still looked kind of worn out from training.

 

“Uh, yeah?” Lance replied, flinching a little when the portal split open to reveal Shiro.

 

“Hi. Is it okay if I come in?” Shiro smiled, but looked slightly uncomfortable. Lance’s heart began to race involuntarily. He quickly got up and started cleaning his stuff up, anxious that his messiness would piss him off and change Shiro’s mood back to its lower range. Shiro’s arms were folded, but he didn’t seem angry. Did he have bad news for Lance? Was that why he seemed so… awkward?

 

“Shiro. Hey,” Lance said stiltedly, trying not to betray his nervousness in his voice. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”  _Wrong with me_ , Lance silently added.

 

“Nothing’s wrong.” Shiro stepped inside and let the portal shut behind him, placing a hand on the back of his head and wincing. Lance knew that he had been having a lot of headaches recently, and that he was concerned about figuring out their source. “I mean, nothing really. I just… wanted to talk to you.”

 

Lance swallowed and cracked a tentative grin. “Yeah, that’s fine. What do you want to talk about?”

 

“I know I’ve been leaning a lot on you recently,” Shiro began, uncharacteristically shakily. Normally he sounded completely confident, firm with whatever statement he was making- apart from those brief moments of vulnerability that Lance had noticed. Shiro had been showing those more and more often, and always seemed to do so when just Lance was around. It made him feel… kind of good.

 

“But you’ve been able to… help me a lot, Lance. I’m beginning to realize how much I need you.”

 

Lance’s forced smile shifted into a natural one, his body feeling lighter with Shiro’s praise. “No problem, man. I mean, you’re the leader of our team. I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

 

Shiro’s gaze suddenly became more focused, no longer avoiding Lance’s eyes. “I don’t think you understand.” He sat down next to Lance on his bed, stiffly sitting upright, his hands interlocked and fingers coming apart and together like a nervous tic. “Lance, I really do need you. Not just as a soldier or… teammate.”

 

The warm feeling in Lance’s body became almost uncomfortable, his stomach buzzing with that same feeling he got when a girl he liked paid attention to him. Shiro had always managed to make him feel that way, even if Lance didn’t like to think about whether his feelings went beyond respect or hero worship. Now, he was beginning to become certain that they did.

 

“Shiro, I-“ Lance bit his lip, feeling paralyzed by the words he was trying to find. What should he say? A simple ‘Thanks’ wouldn’t cut it. He also really didn’t want to blurt out anything stupid and destroy this moment they were having. What the hell did you say in this kind of a situation? Shiro finally seemed to… care for him. The high he felt was incredible, but he knew what a low it could drop to in an instant. “-I’m really glad, Shiro. I know I’m not Keith, but-“

 

“I know you’re not Keith.” Without warning, Shiro shifted closer to Lance and wrapped his arms around him, roughly pulling him in so that they were facing one another, their heads not more than a few inches apart. “This isn’t about him, or you replacing him. Yes, he’s my family, but that’s different than what I’m talking about now.”

 

The excited buzzing that Lance felt became chaotic, confused. He was stuck somewhere between elation and fear, unable to escape but having Shiro pay this kind of attention to him-

 

Shiro’s eyes had changed again. They became almost hyperfocused, the intensity of his expression scary. Lance really, really hoped he wasn’t going to have another Jekyll-and-Hyde change of heart right now.

 

“I love you, Lance. I can’t remember… figure out… when this happened, but I do.”

 

Lance’s mind went completely blank. 

 

“Wh… what?” He’d misheard, right? Shiro must have meant something else, his head was messing with him, or he had fallen straight asleep without noticing and this was a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had one like this.

 

Shiro’s brows furrowed. “Look, I know this isn’t right. But it’s what I need from you right now. Please.”

 

Please, what?

 

Before he could reply, Lance felt his head hit the mattress as Shiro shoved him down into his bed, within a single movement pulling him down flat onto the bed and kissing him roughly. Lance’s head became hyperactive, his thoughts coming at him too rapidly to keep track of. He felt too stunned to move or respond in any way, his body becoming tense from the shock and wave of adrenaline hitting him.

 

“Lance.” Shiro’s voice was serious, the same one he’d used when he berated or yelled at him in the past. But his expression was softening, the arms he was pinning Lance down with trembling. “I’m so confused. I feel like I’m falling into pieces and everybody knows. Nothing else makes sense here but you. Whatever is going on, you can help me. I just need…”

 

Lance felt the coolness of Shiro’s robotic hand going underneath his shirt, tracing his body. 

 

“S-Shiro!” Lance yelped, flinching away from the touch.

 

Shiro’s other hand moved to cover his mouth, his nails digging into Lance’s skin. His expression became angry, the way he had looked when he yelled at Lance in front of the others.

 

“Shut up,” he hissed. “Whatever happened to ‘I’ll do whatever you need me to do’? I’m your leader, and you’re going to keep your word and trust me.”

 

If Lance hadn’t been so stunned, he might have teared up, but Shiro’s sudden violence all seemed like a hazy dream to him. Not even a nightmare. He could almost believe that this all made sense, that this was really happening…

 

“Be good,” Shiro murmured, the hand on Lance’s body moving towards the hem of his pants. “Everything is going to be fine.” It wasn’t apparent whether Shiro was talking to Lance or himself.

 

Unable to protest or find the will to fight, Lance watched as Shiro’s face changed back into a soft, almost tender expression. He knew somewhere in the back of his head that this was wrong, and he should be fighting it. But since it was Shiro, the Shiro he’d always idolized and who had kept him and his friends safe and alive through so many battles…

 

Lance moved his arm up as much as Shiro’s dominion over him would allow and touched him gently, silently accepting his situation. Shiro seemed to understand, removing his hand from Lance’s mouth and stroking his cheek.

 

“I’m sorry I did that,” he whispered, leaning in and kissing Lance on the neck, this time more gently. “I don’t know why I… y-you’re okay with this, right?”

 

“…Yeah,” Lance replied, still in a daze. Shiro said everything was going to be fine, so it was. That was that. He figured that things could be much, much worse- and Shiro had said that he loved him. That was enough to justify… whatever this was. He could take it, for Shiro’s sake. This almost seemed like a dream come true, in its own twisted and mangled way.

 

“Good boy.” Shiro’s head moved up and his mouth twisted into a sneer. “Show me what you’re good for, Lance.”

 

The hand travelling down his body now yanked his bottoms off and gripped his thigh. Lance tried not to make any noise to suggest his pain, fearing what Shiro would do to him in response.

 

Shiro got onto his knees with his legs on either side of lance and began to fumble with his own pants. His breathing was erratic, his expression frenzied and desperate. Lance watched as he pulled his pants down and saw that his cock was hard, his legs quivering.

 

“Please- please help me, Lance- Nobody else can- You know I love you. Please, just trust me. It won’t hurt you.”

 

Sitting down on top of Lance’s bare lower half, Shiro’s chest heaved with each breath through gritted teeth as he stared intensely into Lance’s eyes, moving both hands to cradle his face. Lance felt almost disassociated from his body, the sensation of heaviness resting on him and mixture of fear and arousal palpable, but his body out of his conscious control.

 

“Shiro, I don’t know why you’re doing this, but…” Lance gulped, feeling his eyes water a little and hoping that he wasn’t going to cry out of sheer confusion. “I trust you.” What choice did he have?

 

Shiro began to move around, lifting himself up slightly onto his shins and rocking back and forth on Lance’s pelvis. His face was impossible to read, caught between the two states of mind he kept flipping between. Lance felt himself begin to get hard between the movement of Shiro’s body and the look of him, pants down and erect, taking complete control of him.

 

Shiro pushed two fingers inside of Lance’s mouth, still expressionless. “Suck.”

 

Lance did as he was told. Finally, Shiro’s face settled on a smile.

 

“You’re doing great, Lance. You’re giving me everything I need. I feel so much more whole when I’m with you.” His other hand trailed down to Lance’s shoulder, rubbing it, not unlike the touches that he had given him before when he performed well in training. The feeling of affirmation just made Lance feel even more aroused, and he was unable to stifle a moan.

 

Removing his fingers from Lance’s mouth, Shiro leaned back and moved his lower body up for a moment to rub the saliva up and down the shaft of his cock. “This is far from optimal,” he muttered, “but it will have to do. I’ll come prepared in the future.” His tone of voice was the exact same as when he made a move in battle, fucking with Lance’s head even more than he had already.

 

Shiro lowered himself onto Lance’s cock with surprising ease, not hesitating or pausing until it was buried to the hilt. Lance felt himself weaken as pleasure overtook him even more than it already had, feeling the warmth and tightness unlike anything he’d experienced before or could have imagined in any fantasy. Maybe none of this made sense, but at least it felt good.

 

Still, this was as far from the way Lance pictured losing his virginity as possible.

 

Shiro grunted as he began to move up and down, steadying himself with his hands on Lance’s shoulders. His motions were fast and desperate, his fingers twitching as if searching for something within Lance’s skin. He seemed to be caught up in an unpleasant thought, his expression conflicted.

 

Lance put his hands on Shiro’s sides, hoping to comfort him; as messed up as the whole ordeal was, he could tell that he needed it.

 

“It’s okay, Shiro,” He whispered between his quiet pants and moans. “It’s okay… It’s okay.”

 

Shiro seemed to calm down, finally steadying his pace and looking at Lance with a grateful expression that seemed full of adoration. It felt amazing to have Shiro this hungry for him, his body, his comfort. His hero really needed him, really loved him. Plus, Shiro’s body just looked and felt amazing in general. Why fight it?

 

Shiro’s breathing became more laboured, his moans louder as he brought Lance closer to orgasm. He whispered something under his breath, so quietly that Lance could barely hear him.

 

“…Love me. Tell me you love me… Tell me…”

 

Shiro suddenly moved to grasp his throat and grip it so that Lance could barely breathe. He spoke louder now, issuing a command. “Tell me you love me.” There were tears in his eyes.

 

Lance couldn’t help but be surprised at how vulnerable Shiro sounded. “I love you,” he replied hoarsely, feeling himself on the edge. “I love you, Shiro!”

 

With that, Shiro cried out, biting on his lip as he came onto Lance’s chest. His body pulsed with the waves of the aftershock, tightening and making Lance cum inside him in turn, choking out his beloved leader’s name.

 

The hand of Lance’s throat loosened its grip and became limp. Shiro fell forward as he lifted himself off of Lance’s softening cock, lying on top of him like a machine that had run out of power. Both were still breathing heavily, Lance still recovering from the asphyxiation that Shiro had caused him.

 

As his mind wandered in the confusion of the afterglow, Lance was brought back to reality by a soft, rhythmic heaving he felt against him. Focusing back onto Shiro, Lance realized that he was now sobbing quietly.

 

“Why did I do that?” He whispered, sounding absolutely miserable and wracked with guilt. “Christ, Lance, why? How could I do that to you? Why?”

 

“Hey,” Lance whispered, wrapping his arms around Shiro and allowing him to fall to his side on the bed. “It’s okay, Shiro. I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

 

Shiro whimpered, resting his head on Lance’s chest and curling up.

 

“I really feel like I’m becoming someone else, someone… evil. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, or _why_ -" He was speaking quickly, barely coherent in his sudden panic.  "Please help me, Lance. I need you.”

 

Lance ran a hand through Shiro’s hair. Through this experience that he knew should be traumatizing to him, he felt as if they had been transported to some fucked up world where all of this made perfect sense. And in this world, he guessed that he had ended up as Shiro’s secret lover, or whore, or something in between. Somehow, he was fine with that.

 

“Let’s just go to sleep,” Lance replied, feeling completely spent. He felt sore now not only from the training he did earlier, but from having Shiro riding him so forcefully and practically tearing into his flesh at times. Also, if Shiro went to sleep, he couldn’t change back to being angry.

 

Shiro must also have been exhausted, since he readily complied and fell asleep, holding onto Lance like a life raft. Before Lance could disappear into unconsciousness himself, he heard Shiro mumble in his sleep.

 

“I just want it to stop.”


	3. Retribution

“Hey, Shiro…?”

 

The man leaning against the metal wall looked over curiously, without any discernible emotion.

 

“Yes, Lance?” He used a tone of voice neither hot nor cold. The implacable nature of his speech frustrated Lance and only made him more frightened of what he was trying to do. Normally he could figure out what Shiro was thinking, what state of mind he was in. But as he watched Pidge and Allura spar, he didn’t show any sign of emotion.

 

Lance instinctually stepped backwards, looking side to side and making note of paths to escape if it became necessary. So far, nothing of the sort had happened in front of the others, but after what Shiro did last night he couldn’t help it. 

 

“Do you think we could talk outside for a minute?”

 

Shiro nodded slowly, unfolding his arms and coming up off the wall. He beckoned to Allura and Pidge, stopping them in the middle of some close-range combat. 

 

“You girls keep it up on your own, and make sure you tell Hunk he’s got to get in an hour of target practice today when you see him. Lance and I need to discuss something.”

 

Pidge shrugged and nodded casually, not thinking more of the interaction. Allura seemed kind of confused, but ultimately nodded as well. “We shall.”

 

As Shiro motioned for Lance to follow him outside, he couldn’t help but notice Allura giving him a concerned glance before returning her attention to Pidge. He hoped that she wasn’t going to catch on, or try to get involved. That would make things so, so much worse.

 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Shiro turned to Lance and raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong, Lance?”

 

Christ. Did he… forget what had happened yesterday? Lance felt his stomach drop in a mixture of confusion and relief. 

 

“Oh.” Shiro’s eyes widened. “Oh. Lance, did I…?” He seemed to be realizing why Lance looked so nervous. He leaned forward, gripping Lance’s shoulders. “Please tell me I didn’t hurt you, Lance. Please- What did I do?”

 

Lance tried to make a cheerful, lighthearted expression. “It’s not like that, Shiro. I mean, well…” He looked away, trying to figure out whether it’d be better to lie or give some abridged version of the truth. “You were kind of rough yesterday. I got scared and… I left.”

 

He didn’t mention that Shiro had broken into a violent tirade of insults against him, holding him down and branding his skin with the metal of his robotic hand. He didn’t mention having to use his bayard against him just to have a chance to escape, or hiding out in a storage bunker overnight unable to sleep out of fear that Shiro would pursue and find him. When he emerged carefully the next day, he saw Shiro chatting peacefully with Pidge and stayed in a group ever since, avoiding spending even a second alone with him.

 

“…I see.” Shiro looked down, and Lance felt a rush of adrenaline alerting him to either grab his weapon or get the hell out of there. He could feel that Shiro was trembling, but whether it was with anger or sadness wasn’t yet obvious.

 

The soft feeling of skin against his broke through the internal argument of fight versus flight as Shiro stroked Lance’s cheek and brushed through his hair.

 

“When I think back…” Shiro bit his lip, looking extremely distraught. “I don’t remember anything that happened last night. I keep forgetting things, even now.” He pulled Lance in with his other arm, holding him in an embrace that was almost cautious, one that Lance knew he could easily break out of if he really needed to. Was that intentional? “I’m so sorry, Lance. I don’t know why I’d do something like that to you. I- I don’t want to hurt you, Lance. You know I love you.”

 

Lance leaned into the hug and began to feel a comfortable warmth setting into his skin. This was why he’d convinced himself to seek out Shiro, even after all that had happened the night before. No matter how bad it got, feeling this loved and needed by his hero made it all worth it. Whatever Shiro was going through in his head when he broke into acts of violence, became completely out of control and then wasn’t even able to remember it, was obviously far worse than whatever pain he caused. He needed someone he could rely on, someone he could trust to help him through it, and it was Lance.

 

A genuine smile crept over Lance’s face. He needed Shiro the same as Shiro needed him. This made him feel whole, made their world make sense. Everything about them fit together so nicely, he could forget all the bad parts…

 

The warmth of Shiro’s breath on his shoulder, his silent desperation for someone to lean on, everything felt right.

 

Shiro pulled away just enough to lean back in and kiss Lance gently, their faces fitting together so comfortably that Lance thought he might have been built for Shiro. When did he start feeling this way, and was it before or after Shiro had…? That didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to think about it.

 

“Let’s go somewhere private,” Shiro murmured. “I want to give you myself as an apology. We can come up with an excuse for where we were later.”

 

His tenderness filled Lance with a fluttering feeling. “Yeah, okay.”

 

As soon as they were alone in Shiro’s room, Lance began to remove his clothes. He felt comfortable and safe now, as if nothing could go wrong.

 

“Lance…” Shiro’s voice sounded slower than usual, almost as if he were a little drunk. “Why did you run away, Lance?”

 

The hair on the back of Lance’s neck stood up. Shiro’s voice had turned to that hauntingly familiar, icy tone. 

 

“Don’t you trust me?”

 

“Of course I do, Shiro,” Lance replied, beginning to feel that he had made a mistake. That change in Shiro’s voice triggered a memory that wasn’t too far back. Last night, Shiro had also started out in a good mood.

 

“Bullshit!” Shiro snarled, rushing at Lance and pinning him to the wall. The suddenness of the impact wracked Lance’s body with pain, and he bit his tongue until it flooded with the metallic taste of blood to avoid making any noise. “If you loved me- if you really meant it when you said-“ His breathing was heavy, his eyes wide and pupils two tiny dots cast in circles of dark shadow. Some days Shiro’s eyes looked smooth and grey like the sea, others they became almost entirely black with no light within.

 

“Shiro-“

 

His head was smacked against the wall again, the pain coursing through Lance’s skull like waves of anger washing over him from out of Shiro’s hand. 

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

“I do love you, Shiro!” Lance whimpered, turning his head away to brace for another blow. “I’m sorry I ran away! I should have trusted you! I’m sorryI’msorryI’msosorryI’msosorry-“

 

He felt Shiro’s force shift away as he fell in a heap against the wall, sobbing. His body still ached from the impact, his head spinning and prickling with pain. When he finally could stop crying long enough to look up, Shiro was looking down at him with disgust.

 

“I really believed you. I thought you understood my rules. I have such low expectations for you, Lance, and you still manage to disappoint me.”

 

Lance slumped back down, not even bothering to conceal his tear-streaked face. Why bother? He really had fucked up. He deserved this.

 

A loud noise startled him enough to look up again; Shiro had thrown his helmet against the wall in rage.

 

“Fuck!”

 

He ran up and punched the same spot with his Galra arm hard enough to leave a dent.

 

“Lance, I- Please, stop me. Please!”

 

He banged his human arm against the wall again and again, his angry yells turning into sounds of pain.

 

“Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop- I don’twanttohurthimdon’twantto-“ He gasped, banging his head on the metal. “I don’t want to hurt him, somebody please stop me…”

 

He collapsed onto the ground.

 

Lance fought the weakness in his muscles to rush over to him and help him up.

 

Shiro’s face was pale, terrified. “It happened again, we came in here and I know I- I know I hurt you, Lance, I can see it, and I remember what I did to you yesterday-“

 

Yelling in pain, he grabbed his head, as if trying to squeeze out something evil within.

 

“Don’t try to remember it now,” Lance whispered urgently. “That gives you the headaches. Just… don’t worry about it. You’ve stopped now. It’s okay.”

 

Shiro’s eyes were full of tears, his voice choked. “I wish I could stay away from you.”

 

Silently, Lance thought about what Shiro had just said as he helped him up and carried him to bed, lying him down and beginning to undress him. Did he wish for the same thing? That this whole twisted version of their relationship had never started, and Shiro never began hurting him and hunting him down and controlling him so tightly? If it hadn’t been for that… he’d have to give up all the love and affection and desperation that Shiro now had for him, and that was something he didn’t think he could do. The lows would always be worth it for the highs.

 

“Don’t think about it, Shiro. You know I forgive you no matter what. I’ll… I’ll always be here for you.”

 

Shiro smiled gently as Lance wiped the tears off his face before wiping his own.

 

“Please don’t let me become that way again, Lance,” he murmured as he reached up to pull Lance in. “That’s- That’s not me. I don’t know who I become sometimes, none of it makes any sense. Please, make it go away.”

 

Lance kissed him softly, carefully, the aching of his physical traumas masked by a new wave of euphoria at Shiro’s insistent hand encircling his waist and holding him as if he were the most precious thing in the universe.

 

“I’ll try to, Shiro,” he replied, resting his head on Shiro’s chest momentarily before propping himself up on his chest, mentally preparing for the intensity that came with having sex with Shiro at his most unstable. “I want to make you happy.”

 

Shiro laughed quietly, almost sadly. “You do, Lance. You do.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there a light at the end of this tunnel? You tell me!


	4. Another Perspective- Suspicion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Allura confronting one or both of them about the situation". With a hint of Allura's feelings towards Lance because I do it all for you, Anon.

The princess narrowed her eyes upwards to meet Shiro’s defensive glare.

 

“You know we’ve caught on,” Allura hissed angrily, becoming even more enraged by the dispassive, disapproving expression that Shiro wasn’t faltering from. Were her words even getting through to him?

 

“Who’s _we?”_ Shiro asked, his voice entirely steady.

 

“Hunk and I. He told me-“ momentarily, Allura wondered whether she was endangering Hunk by revealing he had any part in this, but that was ridiculous- even if she was furious at Shiro’s engagements with Lance, he wouldn’t attack his own team. “He told me that he’s seen some certain _injuries_ on Lance, ones that couldn’t have come from anyone else.” To emphasize her point, Allura held up her right hand.

 

For a brief moment, the cool gaze Shiro gave her shifted to concern and guilt. He looked away. “That… was an accident. Lance knows that. I’d never do- let it happen again.”

 

Allura crossed her arms. She felt an instinctual need to put up some sort of defence, perhaps shape-shift a few inches taller. Being alone with Shiro had never made her feel uncomfortable or… afraid, before. But he wasn’t always someone she recognized, there were moments when he seemed to hold the presence in her mind of an enemy soldier, his voice and motions changing to a state at once unrecognizable and eerily familiar.

 

“That still doesn’t resolve the problem at hand,” Allura said stiffly, attempting to remain in control of the situation and suppress any trace of fear in her voice. “Your… relationship… with Lance. Surely you must recognize that this isn’t right.”

 

Shiro again became rigid, serious. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

 

“You’re abusing your authority over him! You’ve become so- manipulative towards him!” Silently, Allura cursed herself for how hysteric she knew she sounded, but the outpour wouldn’t stop. “Merely months ago, he didn’t- he didn’t have any feelings for- he _doesn’t_ have feelings for you!”

 

The passive, unsettling stillness of Shiro’s expression became a sort of half-smile, hideously patronizing, like a teacher who knows you’ve got the answer wrong but tried to be nice about it anyways. “Alright, Allura. I think I understand now. You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

 

Allura flinched. Shiro’s horrible, placid smile only grew.

 

“It’s okay if you have feelings for him- I figured as much,” he assured her, his tone of voice somehow shifting from mocking to sincere mid-sentence. “It’s okay, Allura. I’m not mad. But he loves me, and I love him. You’ll find somebody else.”

 

Red-hot anger burned through Allura’s veins- she’d placed aside the thought of any personal desires before coming to this meeting. Her concerns were purely for Lance’s safety and well-being, and had nothing to do with any sort of feelings she may have been developing towards him. Right?

 

Shiro didn’t seem bothered by her blank expression and lack of a reply. For an instant he seemed like his old self, the person Allura had first met, who earnestly wanted to work with and help every member of him team with their problems. He really seemed to believe that he and Lance were… okay, together.

 

For Lance’s sake, and since there was no getting through to Shiro at this present moment, Allura decided that she would believe it.

 

“Very well,” she muttered quietly. “I won’t bother arguing with you. But keep in mind that if we see him hurt again…” Allura searched for a plausible threat. Could she really tell the person who was technically _her_ leader that she’d fire him? Imprison him? She couldn’t imagine it, even with Shiro’s increasing instability. At her core she still trusted him to come through as the guiding light of Voltron as he had before, to get better and to return to being the pillar that all of them had leaned on for so long. And she wanted to believe that Lance was really… happy, with all this.

 

“Just, please.” She finished, biting her lip and fighting back the teariness that was overcoming her. “Do treat him well. Please.”

 

A hand rested reassuringly on Allura’s shoulder. A genuine, warm smile. “I will, Princess.”


	5. Focus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this one was "Shiro helping Lance with his marksmanship and Lance is grateful and feels appreciated but then Shiro turns cold instantly and it devolves into another sexual encounter" (verbatim- I keep your posts so I can be somewhat accurate to them dontchaknow)
> 
> To Anon (and all others), hope you enjoy!

“Lance, you need to shift more of your weight backwards. You’re practically perched on your toes, which makes it far too easy for an opponent to knock you over.”

 

Lance nodded. Shiro’s hands were placed on his hips and he stood flush behind him, repositioning his body. It was obvious that Shiro was serious about training, but Lance couldn’t help but feel a little flustered at having Shiro close to him like this, paying so much attention to him…

 

“Turn your hips a little, like this-“ Shiro’s instructions were accompanied by a forceful twist, Shiro practically lifting Lance up and pressing even closer into his backside. The arms that encircled him and moved his arms to better hold his weapon felt almost like an embrace.

 

Lance tried his hardest to hold his position steady, unable to turn around and gauge Shiro’s judgement from his face.

 

“You’re doing great.” His voice was warm, approving. Lance fought the stupid grin he felt creeping over his face, determined to stick to being totally serious and impressing Shiro with his focus.

 

That was the thing Shiro had said he wanted to teach him- focus. He'd told him that last night when they were almost asleep; Shiro had seamlessly shifted from the violent lover back to the controlled, stoic leader, disregarding the fact that he was naked in bed with his ‘student’.

 

Sometimes, in moments like those where Shiro just seemed like all he wanted was to help Lance improve himself, take care of himself- he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d had the same conversation with Keith, done the same old routine. Was he a replacement for Keith, until he came back? _Does Shiro really care about me as much as he did about him?_ It became a cycle of angry, jealous, all-consuming thoughts that kept Lance awake. Back in simpler times at the Garrison, Lance’s rivalry with Keith had boiled down to envy of his success as a training fighter pilot, but this was a new feeling. Shiro had told Lance, more than once, that Keith was _like a brother_ and that he had _nothing_ to worry about.

 

It made Lance feel even stupider to have this uncontrollable sense of jealousy over someone who wasn’t even a threat. Somehow, all those fears that resurfaced when Shiro was just acting _normal_ with him made Lance love when he lost control, pushed him down, demanded his attention- made him feel irreplaceable, more than another component of the Voltron machine. It made him happy to have something from Shiro that Keith never could, no matter how much it hurt.

 

A row of holographic sentries changed at Lance and Shiro, interrupting the train of thought running through Lance’s head. He dispatched them in a single, streamlined barrage of fire, taking great care to maintain the posture that Shiro had instructed him to.

 

Shiro had backed away, allowing Lance to take on the training exercise entirely by himself. Having Shiro there- the promise of his affection or his anger, either way his attention- drove Lance past what he thought he could do. After dozens of waves of attack by various catalogued enemy simulations, his heart was racing and his hair was glued to his forehead with sweat. Lance couldn’t ever remember the last time he’d fought that hard in a _real_ fight.

 

Lance turned around to seek out Shiro’s reaction, and was relieved to find that he looked pleased.

 

“Did I, uh, focus enough?” Lance asked quickly, smiling cautiously at Shiro as he removed his helmet and put it aside.

 

Shiro nodded. “You did. I think you’ve really got the hang of sharpshooting.” Lance felt a warm, light sensation radiate throughout his body.

 

Shiro approached him and pulled him closer by the hips, kissing him on the forehead.

 

“Hey, I’m still pretty gross and sweaty-“ Lance objected, before being silenced with Shiro’s mouth on his.

 

“We’re not done here yet,” he murmured, pulling Lance in even closer. “Show me how you use the sword.”

 

Lance sighed exhaustedly. He didn’t have much energy left to keep training, but he didn’t want to tell Shiro that. “Right now?”

 

Shiro stepped back and nodded. “We’re already here, aren’t we?”

 

Wearily, Lance gripped his bayard and tried to remember how he’d gotten it to convert into a sword before. He’d been training alone… Allura came in… and then what?

 

He still didn’t understand why the weapon had changed that time, or what cue it needed. He wished that Altean technology had been straightforward enough to have a button or something, but they _had_ to make things complicated with this whole user-sensing ability-responsive tech. Eurgh.

 

Shiro didn’t seem impatient, but keeping him waiting made Lance nervous. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on the image of the Altean broadsword, its weight in his hands.

 

“Try to remember what you were thinking about the last time you used it,” Shiro suggested, loosely clasping Lance’s hands in his own. “Try to remember what you were feeling.”

 

Lance gulped. “Well… I’ll try that.”

 

He remembered talking to Allura, her mentioning Shiro, him defending Shiro’s behaviour, a sort of desire to stay loyal to him above all others. 

The right hand of Voltron- Shiro’s right hand.

 

Although his eyes were still closed, the shifting of the mass centre and warmth radiating upwards from his palms let Lance know that he had been successful.

 

Lance opened his eyes, relieved to see that he hadn’t summoned some stupid tertiary Altean weapon this time. Shiro’s hands tightened on Lance’s own, and although he couldn’t see his face, Lance could tell from his voice that he was smiling.

 

“Great job, Lance. I knew you could do it.” Shiro’s hands drifted back down to Lance’s hips, his head leaning on Lance’s shoulder. His voice became soft despite his close proximity to Lance, as if he were speaking from far away. “Let me take a look at it. It’s a remarkable weapon.”

 

Although Shiro didn’t quite sound like himself, Lance didn’t disobey. He allowed Shiro’s hands to trace back upwards and take the broadsword from his hands. He pulled away from Lance, focusing on the weapon, testing it in his hands before knocking Lance over with a sweeping kick under his feet and placing the blade at his throat.

 

Somehow, when Allura had messed with him in this same scenario, he hadn’t actually been frightened for his life. But with the frenzied, violent look in Shiro’s eyes, Lance couldn’t help but wonder if this was actually the way he was going to die.

 

“Don’t get too confident.” Shiro’s voice was cold, steely but not robotic. It was that tone he used to issue commands, both in the field and during their private meetings.

 

“You’re still too weak, too unfocused. You’re never going to be prepared when I need you to be in a fight.” Shiro removed the blade from Lance’s neck, but he didn’t dare try to get up. Shiro continued talking as he walked in circles around Lance, studying him from every angle, his expression darkening with every noticed flaw.

 

Lance’s head was still spinning from the hard impact of the floor. All he saw against the blindingly bright lights was Shiro’s silhouette looming over him. 

 

“You know you’re a liability, right?” Shiro bent down and grabbed Lance by his collar, pulling him up to his face. “If I can’t count on your abilities, you’re no longer needed on the team.”

 

Lance felt a rush of fear appearing as a cold, angry shiver down his spine. “But.. you said I was doing great before? That I’m getting better, right?” What had happened in the last fifteen minutes that changed Shiro’s opinion of him like this? Lance racked his minds for what he might have done to piss him off, to disappoint him. It was always like walking a tightrope- while blindfolded- trying to figure him out.

 

Shiro’s expression softened. “I suppose I did…” He made a conflicted grimace, apparently caught between Jekyll and Hyde. 

 

Waiting in the silent pause, terrified of the intensity of Shiro’s stare yet afraid to look away, Lance waited for him to finish his thought.

 

Finally, the absent look in Shiro’s eyes disappeared and he let Lance go, closing his eyes and exhaling tiredly like he’d just fought an internal battle in the span of a few seconds.

 

“The point is, while you’re improving, you still have far to go,” Shiro finally stated, his tone formal and serious. “We’re going to need to do a lot more serious training, like we did today.”

 

Lance felt simultaneously relieved and hurt. While Shiro hadn’t become totally overtaken by anger towards him, he wasn’t really happy with him either.

 

“Yeah- of course,” Lance answered quietly, still looking upwards at Shiro’s face. “I’ll keep… working on it. Until it’s good enough.”

 

Shiro opened his eyes and smiled at Lance, with something slightly off in the curve of his mouth. It just crossed that line between a mischievous grin and something malevolent.

 

“Good boy.”

 

Shiro pulled himself down onto Lance, kissing him forcefully and gripping his sides so tightly that he was sure it would leave bruises. 

 

“Shiro, I don’t think we should do this _here-“_ Lance usually didn’t protest whatever Shiro wanted to do with him, but couldn’t anyone just walk into the room and catch them?

 

“Consider it a part of your training,” Shiro whispered. “I already told the others not to bother us until we’re done.”

 

Silently, Lance was hit with the fear that his other teammates might realize what’s going on and try to stop it. Whatever lame excuse he gave Hunk when he accidentally saw the hand-shaped burn on Lance’s shoulder probably already made them suspicious.

 

Still, he wasn’t going to say no. Maybe he wasn’t good enough as a marksman yet, but at least he could please Shiro another way. 

 

Shiro didn’t bother with removing any more clothing than was necessary, exposing only what needed to be exposed and pushing away any interfering fabric.

 

At some point after their first… encounter, Shiro had somehow managed to find a decent lubricant. Lance had no idea where, but he definitely appreciated in on those rare occasions where Shiro would top. From the way that Shiro was pulling up Lance’s legs and hoisting his calves over his shoulders, it looked like it was going to be one of those times.

 

There wasn’t much in the way of preparation. Sometimes Shiro would go slow, do some foreplay, but considering their location and the mood that Shiro was in, it was going to be quick and rough. 

 

Lance braced himself as he felt the cold, slimy texture of a well-lubricated cock preparing to enter him, fighting the instinct to tensen his muscles and make matters worse. At least this time Shiro was _using_ lube- there had been a couple of times where he just wasn’t enough in his mind to do anything but rip away fabric and take what he wanted. _That_ wasn’t a great experience.

 

In this particular encounter Shiro  was careful about entering Lance slowly, checking his face for signs of discomfort. 

 

“You alright?” He asked quietly, his face still not betraying any sign of tenderness. When Lance nodded, he began to move, gripping Lance’s thighs and digging his fingers in almost enough to break the skin. Lance tried not to wince as Shiro practically pounded him into the floor. His spine protested against the position he was being held in, but the act itself wasn’t really painful. He actually enjoyed it, when it wasn’t on a metal floor, while Shiro was being…

 

Thinking straight became more difficult as Shiro managed to pull him into a position that was almost comfortable, allowing Lance to take some pleasure in the way he was being used. Heliked the frantic, desperate underlayer of Shiro’s violence, loved the way he was silently telling him _I need you_ with every thrust, the rhythm of his breaths telling Lance exactly what he wanted to know.

 

Even though Shiro hadn’t touched Lance’s cock, he realized that he was getting hard just from the penetration; weeks ago the implications of that might have embarrassed him, but Lance was in far too deep with Shiro to care what that made him. What _was_ he, by this point? He’d always loved girls- and Shiro. Now, only Shiro. 

 

That was fine; it felt good, the demanding grip of hands digging into his skin feeling like a caress, the cock filling him like he was born to take it- It hurt, yeah, the cold steel of the floor and taking this even after pushing himself to his physical limit while training, but he kind of liked it rough.

 

Shiro began to go faster, his eyes briefly meeting Lance’s and filling him with the sense that there was _something_ that Shiro _needed_ from him, and he was going to get it no matter what. And it felt so, so, _so_ good to be needed-

 

Lance whimpered as he came onto his own stomach, breathless and barely aware of how much more time passed before the familiar warmth of Shiro finishing inside him and the empty feeling after he pulled out. Through his hazy thoughts he could make out Shiro issuing a command.

 

“Get dressed.” When Lance finally looked up after some indeterminate amount of time, Shiro was standing by the doorway fully clothed.

 

Scrambling to pull up the bottom part of his uniform, Lance had a mental note to _not_ put it with the laundry Coran did for them, lest he find the stains from the cum both on Lance’s abdomen and smearing down his legs. 

 

As Lance approached Shiro on the way out, he was smiling- apparently whatever had made him so callous before had passed.

 

Something about Shiro’s ever-changing mood triggered a memory Lance had from when he was just a kid on Earth, on his family’s farm. Sometimes he’d go out to play on days where the sky was totally clear and blue, that seemed completely calm with perfect weather, and be startled by the onset of a tropical storm strong enough to knock down branches and flood the roads out of nowhere- and just as suddenly the clouds would clear and the sun would shine again.

 

Shiro was, somehow, both the sunshine and the storm.

 

The man before him was his hero, someone he trusted above all others. When things became difficult, he had to trust that the real Shiro would always come through. Lance had realized that he was Shiro’s anchor when his mind was fragmented and he needed someone else to give _him_ stability the way he tries to give everyone else.

 

Shiro clapped Lance on the back and pulled him in for a side-hug. His attitude had changed so drastically in the two hours they’d been in the training room that it practically felt like whiplash. He now had returned to his “regular” self- the mentor, the hero, not someone who had any sort of special relationship with Lance besides as a leader.

 

“You really did improve today,” Shiro grinned. “I think we should step up your training a little next time- you’re probably ready to handle it.” Was he talking about the actual combat training, or the sex? Or both? At times like this he became impossible to read, even for Lance.

 

Shiro ruffled Lance’s hair, almost paternally- showing his approval, his affection.

 

“Come on, let’s go hit the showers.”

 

Lance nodded and walked alongside Shiro to the bathing rooms. The storm had passed.


	6. Perfect Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An old request for Shiro becoming momentarily lucid enough to try to break up with Lance- unfortunately, it's a bit late for that as Lance has picked up a few yandere tendencies from his codependent relationship with the Other Shiro. Degenerate Shance Anon, this one's for you.

 

Shiro rested his hands on Lance’s shoulders, gently pushing him back. “We can’t keep doing this.”

 

“Wha…” Lance blinked. He turned his head to the side, trying to process Shiro’s words, looking for a clue in his behavior. “What do you mean?” He searched Shiro’s facial expression for some sign of sarcasm or confusion- but he seemed to be serious.

 

Shiro looked away, folding his arms, apparently struggling to find what he wanted to say. He definitely didn’t seem angry. Suddenly his eyes shot open as if he had seen something horrific and he turned back to face Lance, his expression pained.

 

“Look, Lance… I don’t know how long I can control myself for. You know I shouldn’t be with you, right?” He continued on somewhat frantically, like he was afraid he’d run out of time. “I know I’ve hurt you way too much to fix, but I can’t let this get any worse. We need to stop… we need to stop seeing each other like this. Right _now._ ”

 

Once again, Shiro looked away. Lance struggled with what had just been said- did Shiro just break up with him? He suddenly seemed so… distant, no longer a part of whatever secret world they’d created together. The way he was before all these things had started happening between them, before he and Lance became a _thing,_ whatever that thing was. It was an idea that seeded panic in Lance’s mind, as he began to realize that this might mean Shiro was drifting away from him, losing interest, didn’t need him anymore-

 

“Don’t say that, Shiro…” Lance trailed off, his mind still reeling from the realization that _Shiro-might-not-want-him-anymore-_

 

_(Might not need him.)_

 

And they’d go back to how things were before. Lance as the dumb kid who can barely get close to, let alone touch, his hero- Shiro. No, no- that couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t …

 

Shiro was about to say something, so Lance stifled his mouth with his hand, slowly pushing him backwards until he was pressed against the wall. Lance didn’t question why Shiro wasn’t resisting him- he didn’t care right now. He realized that he was breaking down, could feel a manic rush in his veins propelling him to take back control and keep Shiro no matter what. 

 

Slowly Shiro back-slid down the wall so that he was sitting with Lance looming over him, practically perched in him lap, consuming his field of view.

 

Shiro was visibly taken aback. “Lance, you-“

 

Lance covered his mouth with his hand. “Shh.”

 

There wasn’t time to think about this- Lance had to get him to stop, to quit thinking of leaving him, however he could. His hand quickly moved for the zipper on Shiro’s pants.

 

Shiro was trying to mumble out something, to shake his head, but Lance didn’t remove his hand. Shiro could easily overpower him if he wanted to- it was strange that he hadn’t yet. Maybe he _wanted_ his mind to be changed- Y _eah, that was it._ There was no way Shiro _really_ wanted to end it, no way. They were too perfect together.

 

Lance rubbed his hand slowly on the bulge in Shiro’s now-exposed underwear, watching Shiro’s eyes as they shut tightly in resistance.

 

“You know you need me,” Lance murmured, picking up the pace as he felt Shiro begin to grow hard. 

 

Shiro didn’t seem to object to the statement. Lance uncovered his mouth, watching his partner’s expression carefully, searching for a sign of surrender. 

 

Shiro had that desperate, slightly sad look in his eyes he sometimes got after he said or did something especially cruel. It hurt to look at, but Lance knew it was necessary if he was going to keep Shiro from drifting away. He needed to show Shiro something to remind him why he’d come after Lance in the first place, what he had to offer.

 

Lance shifted Shiro’s head to face forward, pulling him by the neck so that he was forced to look him in the eyes, see how much he _needed_ him. Lance had never been the one pushing Shiro around, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Maybe if he was rough enough the Shiro that he’d grown accustomed to would come back out of the shell.

 

“Don’t go,” Lance whispered. “I need you.” His voice trembled, the hysteria creeping in. His spare hand remained on Shiro’s neck, not exerting force but simply pressing against him enough to keep in control, firm but shaky as emotions began to spill over. 

 

_(I need you to need me.)_

 

Lance leaned in and kissed Shiro’s neck over and over, listening to the shifting pattern of his breaths and the barely suppressed moans caught on them as his other hand carefully rubbed against Shiro’s cock just the way he knew he liked. 

 

_(I know your body like the back of my hand.)_

 

He didn’t say it out loud, but Shiro knew. From the way he could push him to the edge just by touching him through the thin cloth of his underwear, forcing him to shift his pelvis closer to Lance just to get his fix. From the way Lance knew every patch of skin to trace with his lips down the side of his neck, behind his ear, everywhere but his mouth. 

 

Even if he wasn’t the one in control of their relationship, Lance had learned Shiro’s topology and how to please him. Now that he _knew_ Shiro like this, like he was certain _nobody_ ever had before or would again, Lance was never going to let him go.

 

Shiro let out a sound of pleasure, then immediately recoiled into himself as if he was ashamed. Lance smiled at him and pressed their faces together, nose to nose. Shiro sighed defeatedly.

 

“Lance, this isn’t… this isn’t right.”

 

Shiro’s voice was quiet and almost slurred, reminding Lance of some of the times his mood suddenly shifted. Lance wouldn’t mind Shiro going into a rage if it meant he’d be all over him again. He’d take possession of him, he’d own him, maybe even punish him for the way he was acting right now- that meant he’d never leave, and that was enough.

 

Lance felt something slightly wet under his thumb: pre-cum. Shiro was getting close. He had him right where he needed. Lance stopped stroking and tightened his other hand around Shiro’s neck, just a little bit. For encouragement.

 

“Tell me you love me.” Shiro’s eyes were barely open, his lip bleeding from a self-inflicted bite. Red and purple marks were already blossoming along the side of his face; Lance’s handiwork.

 

“I… love you.” Shiro sounded pained, like it hurt him to say. Why?

 

“And you won’t leave me?” Lance could feel his heart racing, his fingertips buzzing with electricity, like a flood of energy. Like it was life or death to have Shiro. And, as far as he was concerned, it was.

 

Shiro’s eyes shut again, his face terrifyingly unreadable for a brief moment. Finally, he looked into Lance’s eyes.

 

“I’ll never leave you,” Shiro rasped, looking down. “Never.”

 

The way Shiro said it was like he was telling Lance something horrible. Lance didn’t understand it. They were perfect together- he’d told him that before, over and over. Lance belonged to him. They fit together in every way. Of _course_ he’d never leave him, never.

 

“Good.” Lance loosened his grip on Shiro’s throat and rubbed his neck soothingly, kissing him chastely on the lips. “We’re going to be together, Shiro. Forever. I promise.”

 

Resuming his motion on Shiro’s cock, it didn’t take long to bring him to climax. Lance felt the warmth shoot through his body like a phantom sensation when Shiro came, filling him with satisfaction at a job well done. He’d been the one to do this with Shiro, not anyone else. Never anyone else.

 

——

 

After that encounter, Shiro seemed to return to the way Lance had become used to seeing him. When he brought up the fact he’d tried to break up with him the next day, Shiro couldn’t remember it happening it all, insisted he’d never want that. Because he loved him. Because he _needed_ him.

 

It didn’t matter. Whatever had happened- Lance didn’t care. As long as he had Shiro, and Shiro loved him, and Shiro needed him, nothing else mattered as much.

 

——

 

Sometimes, Lance wondered what was happening to him. When it began, and _how,_ but nothing made that amount of sense anymore. It didn’t need to with Shiro. They were perfect, perfect, _perfect._

 

 


	7. Perfect love, 2

Hunk looked with him with a fierceness he didn’t often show his teammates. Allura was standing with arms folded behind him like a bodyguard, watching with a mixture of anger and sadness.

 

“You burned him with your hand. Why?” Hunk’s voice was gentle but authoritative. He and Allura weren’t going to let him go without an answer.

 

“An accident,” Shiro had told them, hoping his voice sounded genuine. “I already said so.”

 

Hunk’s eyes narrowed in uncharacteristic anger. “Lance is my best friend. I talked to him about you and- and he keeps insisting it’s _okay_ , this thing you’re doing to him, but I’m not buying it. I can’t believe he thought you were a hero. I can’t believe _I_ did.”

 

His words still stung. Shiro didn’t need reminding that what he was doing with Lance was wrong.

 

Shiro bit his lip. “I understand, Hunk. And… I agree. I’m not good for him, but I’m getting better- and we’re not coming apart. We _can’t._ That’s how love is. You have to understand that.”

 

Allura still seemed resigned, an obvious flicker of jealousy on her face. Shiro couldn’t help but feel sorry for her- but, Lance was his. She’d accepted it by now, surely.

 

Hunk glowered for a moment, but eventually his face softened. “Don’t think I’m not gonna keep my eyes on you,” he said slowly, giving an accusatory glance to Shiro’s metal hand. “I don’t want to see you hurt him again.”

 

“I won’t,” Shiro said gently, knowing full well he was lying through his teeth. All he did to Lance was hurt him, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. Not for the integrity of his team, their trust, not for love itself. Something evil had nested inside him and it wouldn’t go away. “I promise.”

 

As they left, Shiro surprised himself with how unbothered he was that who of his fellow paladins no longer trusted him, looked at him as a hero. He wondered how long it would be before he destroyed his relationship with Pidge, too. And Keith- even Keith, who had willingly put up with _so much_ from him- it couldn’t end well. At the end, all that held them together was duty, the fact he was all they had for the Black Lion. The respect for him, the affection- it would all go up in flames.

 

And somehow, he was alright with it.

 

It felt as if pages were being ripped out of him, things once all-consuming like leadership and integrity curving away as his focus became more and more singular. He felt something heavy in his stomach, a leaden weight pulling him towards some final goal that he couldn’t see yet. It was frightening, how everything he’d once lived for was being exchanged for something he didn’t even consciously know- but he _knew_ it was coming. Whatever it was.

 

All he had left to tie himself to reality was Lance. Lance who loved him, even as he felt as if he were disintegrating, his body a catalyst for violence he’d never have thought he’d repeat outside of the gladiator arena. Lance was the clear beam of light through the fog of his jumbled memories and inexplicable actions, the last warm thing that illuminated what remained of his soul.

 

That was love, the only thing that he had left of himself that he was certain about. And that was why he couldn’t stop himself from hurting him.


	8. Dying

At his core, he’d known that his time was limited. The visions, the searing pain in his skull- it had only gotten worse.

 

There wasn’t anything left he could do to hide it.

 

That last night where he’d pinned Lance down and rode him, breathing out his desperate affections in Japanese as his faculty in English escaped him, he’d seen those blue eyes flicker with some sort of understanding. Lance knew that they couldn’t have this forever.

 

But when it was over and he wrapped himself around Lance’s back, murmuring things he knew Lance didn’t understand, the boy’s hands clasped over his anyways and didn’t betray any fear.

 

He was in denial, too.

 

Their breathing slowed and synced into a peaceful rhythm, a gentle song after the cacophony of what Shiro had just done to him, all violent urges having become sated.

 

Shiro loved how all-encompassing he’d become to Lance. The world behind his eyes shifted and betrayed him, nightmares intertwining with reality making it more and more difficult to orient himself when he woke up. At times he’d find himself forgetting essential details of his own life, others he felt like he was looking through a window at himself, immobile, a spectator. But those moments he shared with Lance took place in a world for just the two of them, one Lance worked hard to maintain. He no longer needed to be forced into that shell, he _wanted_ to be there. To live in their isolated piece of the universe without pain or confusion.

 

Lance twisted in Shiro’s grip and came around to face him. There were fresh bruises on his skin materializing, beads of blood on his shoulder. His smile was serene, almost sedated. He looked at Shiro with so much love it could kill any pain Shiro felt.

 

There was a storm ripping at the edges of their world, fraying the universe at the foot of the bed they lay in. It wouldn’t be long, now.

 

Shiro ran his hand through Lance’s hair, kissed his forehead before trailing down to his lips. No further words needed to be said.

 

It was understood. They were dying, together.


	9. Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, it ends! Anon suggested a post-series yandere Lance getting the last surviving Shiro clone and impressing onto him, having a Shiro all his own. In a sense, they do get a happy ending, I guess!

A polyvinyl cloak rustled like the wings of a giant insect, the aura of size that it gave its wearer clearing a small path even in the crowded bazaar. 

 

Behind the food stalls, and the merchants, and all the small-time black market alleyways. Within the unmarked door at the bottom of a long and winding underground path- that was where Lance found what he’d come for.

 

Eight years hadn’t been enough to erase the memory of him. He couldn’t tell his friends why he’d left to go off-planet alone; they’d have been too worried about his mental health. But this wasn’t their choice to make. Lance was an adult, and he knew what he needed.

 

A short, grey person of some race Lance hadn’t seen before led him through the back and into the holding chamber after he’d shown that he was more than able to pay. Amidst the relics of the Empire, various quintessence-enriched illegal weapons and the armour of fallen commanders, Lance found his universe again in a violet-tinted vat.

 

The replica of Shiro within still had his hair entirely black, no scar on his face, two arms intact. It was the face of the hero he remembered making his heart skip from when he was fifteen, not the one he’d ended up becoming so close to. But that was alright. It was Shiro, and that was enough.

 

The transaction was steep. This was the last original clone of Shiro available, the only on that had survived the destruction of the facility that made them- and others had already offered to pay quite a bit. The casing had some chips and scratches suggesting the brutal conditions it had survived before being discovered and taken to the market. It was lucky that any existed at all, and Lance didn’t care what the cost was- he needed to have Shiro back.

 

He’d keep him a secret from the world, hidden at home, only his to see and know. Not even Hunk would get to find out about him- after all, they’d all been so critical of him and Shiro back then. It was best for everyone if he stayed a secret. And if Lance kept him out of sight, he could protect him the way he never could with the real Shiro. All he’d have is Lance’s love, never suffering because of the outside world again.

 

Organizing the covert delivery to his home was the hardest part- there were eyes everywhere, and moving around in secret as a Paladin of Voltron made it even more difficult. But with the right price, anything was possible. After eight years without him, Lance had his hero back. He spent a last moment looking at the peaceful face of the unconscious man in the tank before flipping the switch and draining it, opening the plexiglass carapace to cradle the sputtering and gasping man awakening within.

 

Those grey eyes, wide with confusion and fear, focused on his immediately. The memories began to cascade over Lance, filling his chest with a warmth and lightness that had been missing for what felt like a lifetime. Holding Shiro up, Lance watched as he began to try to form words.

 

“…Who?” He blinked, looking at Lance without any hint of recognition. “Where… what happened? Who are… we?”

 

It felt like a stab to the heart for Lance to realize that this Shiro had no memories of him, of anything. It was surprising that the clone even had the faculty of language- the alien who sold him had said that according to their analyses on the brainwaves emitted and programming of the pod, he’d have retained the skills and abilities he’d had when cloned but none of the memories of his past. 

 

Still, it would have to do. They could rebuild those old memories- and this Shiro didn’t have anything to distract him or think about besides Lance. They could finally have their perfect world, alone together.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Lance said soothingly, brushing the damp hair of the new Shiro out of his eyes. “I’m Lance, and you’re Shiro. I’m gonna take care of you from now on.” He smiled, helping Shiro to his feet as he struggled to find his balance, almost like a small child learning to walk. He held onto Lance’s hands like his life depended on it. Getting his absolute love and trust wouldn’t be hard at all, Lance thought fondly to himself. They could finally be together, forever. 

 

Lance pulled Shiro in, stroking his cheek, giving him a gentle kiss and showing him how to reciprocate. Despite the chemicals and salts of the stasis pod fluid coating him, he still smelled familiar. His body was still warm, his heartbeat sounding like music to him.

 

“Everything is gonna be alright.”


End file.
